


Case 182: The Adventure Of The Clubman's Son (1900)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [234]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Chance Meetings, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, English Civil War, F/M, Hampshire, Inheritance, Johnlock - Freeform, London, M/M, Servants, Surprises, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-01 05:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17861402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ A dying nobleman fears that some of his family may be resorting to evil ways in a fight over his estate. And the two idjits have a chance encounter in a bookshop with someone that they met on a previous case.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Northern_Gryphon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Gryphon/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

Many of the 'new' cases that John added to the Sherlock canon in later years and/or that I recorded in my notes for posterity answer one of the most common questions we received about our work, namely why those we helped usually only appeared once. This was to be another case when someone from a past case made a re-appearance – unfortunately for John who had really thought to have avoided them. For at least the next six years.

Talking of the love of my life – and when it ever not a good time to do that? - it was John who brought this case to my attention as it arose through his friend Sir Peter Greenwood. Like John the baronet had few regular patients these days (except my father of course whose 'intermittent deafness' he vouched for from time to time to save him from Mother's dreadful stories; whatever my father was paying him it was not enough!) but he had also developed what might be termed a niche market of his own, namely the clubmen. It was a curious coincidence that that terminology arose from the same conflict that would feature indirectly in our next case, to wit the English Civil War.

John says that what with the state of education these days I have to cover what everyone who has had a proper education should know so the original clubmen were local men who, tired of their villages being drained repeatedly for supplies by one or both parties during the English Civil War, banded together with what weapons they could find (e.g. clubs) and threatened to attack any army that came near. They were potentially an important third force in the conflict and they actually served to speed the end of the war once they saw that the New Model Army was disciplined while King Charles' unruly forces were not.

The modern clubmen were in contrast rich gentlemen who had been diagnosed with a fatal illness. Perhaps surprisingly to some, Sir Peter Greenwood's bluff and often direct manner suited some of these gentlemen well as they much preferred their doctor to be frank with them even if the news was not good, or in this case dire as opposed to merely very bad. These men would settle a large sum on a gentlemen's club of their choosing and then spend their remaining days there (the baronet had once quipped to John that at least this spared them the attentions of all those relatives who 'suddenly' rediscovered their existence just as they were about to shuffle off this mortal coil!). I believe that Sir Peter's frankness gave these men at least some peace in that they could meet their Maker knowing that everything was in order if the end came sooner rather than later.

One such clubman was Mr. William Letherbridge, a rich businessman who haled fromnear the town of Lyndhurst in the New Forest, Hampshire. He had made all his arrangements and moved in to the Marengo Club for when his time came, but Sir Peter told John that certain recent events had unsettled him and he wished to see us both as a matter of urgency. Since this was one of those times when we knew that the urgency was real we agreed to attend immediately at Mr. Letherbridge's club as he would have found the journey to Baker Street too much, short as it was.

֍

Mr. William Letherbridge was very clearly a dying man. It was even more sad in that although he was barely a couple of years older than John he was but a shell of a man, whatever was destroying him clearly winning the battle. He had a set of rooms on the ground floor of the building to himself and his young valet, and he bade us welcome.

“I do not know if you can help me, gentlemen”, he said, clearly having difficulty with his breathing as his words were accompanied with a definite wheeze. “I had thought to have matters all sorted but....”

He ground to a halt. His valet gently folded his blanket around him; the room was stifling hot this cold December day but the poor fellow looked frozen to the marrow.

“Would you like me to tell them, sir?” the valet asked quietly.

Mr. Letherbridge nodded. His servant finished arranging his blanket and sat down.

“My name is Mr. Peter Carter”, he said, “and I have been Mr. Letherbridge's valet for the past four years much of which has seen him fighting this long and, we both know, ultimately losing battle. Your colleague Sir Peter Greenwood was kind enough to be both honest with his assessment of how things stood and to recommend this as a far better way of dealing with things than my master's cold home down in the Forest.”

He paused. He looked (I thought) absurdly young for such a post, but then compared to the ruin of a fellow next to him anyone would look young. He was in his late twenties, self-contained and quietly sure of himself. Doubtless exactly what his master needed now.

“Everything was readied by the middle of last month”, the valet continued. “The Railway Company were particularly helpful and we were settled in here almost before we knew it. But last week I returned to Lyndhurst to get some books that my master had wanted and while I was away I found something amiss.”

“I should explain that my master has four sons; Magnus, Graham, Stephen and Timothy. Unfortunately Mr. Magnus was, so I was told, a headstrong young fellow and about a month before I started he had left home to marry a young farmer's widow on the other side of the county. My master did not approve of the match but his son was firm; he did not see his future running the Pinehurst estate. My master duly disinherited him although he did wush to maintain open a channel of communication, and the occasional letter and Christmas cards were exchanged. My master also kept what they call 'a weather eye' on his eldest son.”

“I would like to ask something there”, I put in. “How did _Mrs._ Letherbridge react to this almost-split?”

The valet looked warily at his master who nodded. Even that slight movement taxed him.

“She was not happy”, the valet admitted (I silently admired the way that he conveyed rather more than he was saying by his look). “It was the opinion of my fellow servants that she focussed her dislike on her new daughter-in-law for what she regarded as her 'stealing' her eldest son. Irrational, but people often are in my experience.”

He had a wise head on those young shoulders, I thought,

“My master had asked me to call in at the farm and convey the latest state of affairs to Mr. Magnus”, the valet said. “I found things to be in a very poor state. I know that farms close down pretty much over winter but there had been a run of animal deaths and crop yields from that year had been dreadful. They were thinking that they might have to sell up.”

I caught his tone of voice there.

“Was there a reason for their run of bad luck, did they think?” I asked.

“Mr, Magnus said no, but his wife later told me in private that she thought that the owners of the farm next door may be responsible”, the valet said. “It is a much bigger place and wraps around their farm on two sides. All they know is that it is owned by someone up in London and that they put their own people in there last year.”

“I should be able to find out who those unobliging owners are”, I mused. “What are the names of these farms, please?”

“The big one is called Waller's Farm”, the valet said, “and Mr. Magnus' is Cheriton Field Farm. Both lie on a famous Civil War battlefield, he said.”

John and I knew each other too well. I sensed the slight tension in him at that name even though he did not show any outward sign of it. I would ask him about it later.

“As with so many of my investigations, it may be a coincidence or it many not”, I said. “Coincidences do happen, and when cases peter out as a result the doctor does not publish them as people do not like to be bored in their reading. I promise you both that I shall make some immediate inquiries into this matter and I shall go down to Hampshire if needed. We shall be sure to communicate our findings to you here.”

The valet hesitated. I looked at him and nodded.

“Yes, we thought you would ask that”, he said. “My master rewrote his will twice after Mr. Magnus' departure from the house. The first time there was a trust fund established for my master's widow; as is custom she could not touch the capital which would revert to the estate on her death. The residue was split equally between the three younger sons.”

“Yet in that short time your master had felt the need to rewrite his will”, I said. “What happened to bring that about?”

The valet looked nervous but answered.

“My master recently came to have some concerns over Mr. Graham, his second son”, he said. “And I am afraid to say, over his own wife. He found that she had been buying items of jewellery and then passing them on to him, presumably in an attempt to circumvent the provisions of the will. It happened twice before we instructed the bank to refuse any further transactions and to strictly limit her account. My master rewrote his will so that more money went to the younger sons, Mr. Stephen and Mr. Timothy, to counter this 'theft'. His wife was unaware of this second change; I arranged for it all to be done through a London lawyer who came to the house only when she was not there.”

“Are his sons aware of the second will?” I asked.

“They are not”, the valet said. He hesitated before adding with a shy smile, “but I would give sixpence to be there to see all their faces when they find out!”

His master also smiled at that.

“I promise that I will give this case my most urgent attention”, I told him.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes”, Mr. Letherbridge managed. “Time is indeed of the essence!”

֍

Time was, and we stopped on our way back to Baker Street so that I could send telegrams to the requisite people. I would have been a poor detective had I not spotted my friend's sudden thoughtfulness but I said nothing. Instead we returned to lunch at 221B after which I led him to our bed.

“Sexy times?” he said hopefully as I began to undress him.

I smiled but said nothing until I had completed my task and allowed him to do the same to me. We then lay quietly on our huge bed and I noted how he instinctively wrapped his larger frame around mine.

“And now you can tell me what upset you so back there”, I said quietly. Our rooms were so isolated that I could in all probability have shouted, but there was something about his mood that deserved a quiet approach.

“Cheriton Field was one of the key battles of the English Civil War”, he said just as quietly. “It got forgotten because of bigger and even more important battles soon after – Marston Moor, Lostwithiel, Second Newbury, Naseby – but it was the first major win for parliament even if it was a close-run thing.”

“I do not think that you would be that upset about a battle fought over two hundred and fifty years ago”, I said, “even if you supported the losing side.”

“Some history books still call in after the nearby town that got burnt afterwards when the Royalists retreated”, he said softly. “The Battle of Alresford.”

Oh.

“You are thinking of your son”, I said. “Is the house nearby?”

“It must be at least ten miles”, he said. “Stoke Fratrum is some way north of the town while Cheriton is a few miles to the south. But Ben must visit Alresford from time to time; it is the nearest town.”

Master Benjamin Warburton, now some fifteen years of age and the result of John's one night with his mother, now Mrs. Thomas Warburton. We had visited Hampshire to solve the poisoning of her father-in-law Colonel Warburton which had turned out to be the work of his eldest son George, since rightly dispatched to Hades for his actions. John and... that female had reached an understanding that he was allowed to place money in a bank for birthdays and Christmas and that this, along with the truth, would be given to young Ben on his twenty-first birthday now less than six years away. John never spoke of him – I knew that he felt ashamed of his actions even though at the time he had had no way of knowing if I would come back to him – but I knew that he often thought of the boy.

“You do know that there was nothing to forgive?” I asked. He smiled wanly.

“Stop with the mind-reading!” he protested half-heartedly.

“Never!” I chuckled. I pulled him closer and we just dozed there, two middle-aged men naked as the day we were born and loving each other to bits.

֍


	2. Chapter 2

I had impressed in my telegram to Miss Bradbury the need for urgency, but even I was surprised when she came round that same evening.

“A fairly amateur job”, she said as she handed us a sheaf of papers. “The farm was purchased through a city agency that does this sort of thing and they received a cheque from a bank in Birmingham. They in turn had an arrangement with a bank in Christchurch, Hampshire, where the money came from.”

I looked at the names on the top of the first sheet. I was not the least bit surprised. Nor I suspected would Mr. Letherbridge be.

“What about the problems that the oldest son has been facing on his farm?” I asked.

“A company that sells animal food and fertilizer, and which 'kindly' donated several tons of experimental versions of both to their neighbours which 'just happened' to spill over”, she said curling her lip. “Again a short chain of concealment but it all led back to the same two people. What will you do?”

“Normally I would wish to confront these villains”, I said. “But I think in the circumstances that I must bow to my client's needs as he needs to know this tonight. I shall send a telegram to let him know all is resolved and that I will be round tomorrow morning to give him all the details.”

֍

We called in at the Marengo Club at nine o'clock sharp the next morning and were shown straight into Mr. Letherbridge's rooms. Even in so short a period he seemed to have declined. 

“It is as you feared”, I said softly. “Your wife and your second son have been attempting to ruin your eldest son, as they feared that you and he were working towards a _rapprochement_ that might have left one or both of them worse off. By use of poisonous chemicals supplied by a company owned by your wife and her purchase of the adjoining farm, both undercover, they have brought him to his knees.”

Mr. Letherbridge sighed.

“I always feared that Graham might turn out like his mother”, he said, wincing at the effort of all those words. “Mr. Holmes, what can I do?”

“I have a course of action to recommend to you”, I said. “And because there is no time to lose I have, perhaps a shade presumptuously, taken one or two steps to help matters on their way....”

֍

Three days later we had a visitor at Baker Street. One look at Mr. Carter's face told us what had happened. He had brought a letter from his master. His late master.

“He fell unconscious late last night”, the young man said miserably, “and was pronounced dead this morning. He asked me to give you this, sir.”

I took the dead man's letter and read it.

“He asks that the doctor and I attend the reading of the will”, I said. “In Alresford.”

John tensed at once but fortunately our visitor did not notice it.

“Why there?” Mr. Carter wondered. “I might have thought for Mr. Magnus but he has been disinherited, and both Stephen and Timothy live around London.”

“Maybe it is halfway between London and Lyndhurst”, I suggested. “There may indeed have been some sort of _rapprochement_ ; he defintiely mentions four sons in his will. He also encloses a cheque for my services and includes a sum for the maintenance of yourself for one month, as well as expressing a request that I might help you find work if you wish.”

“He did mention about the money”, Mr., Carter said. “He had his lawyer round and I had to sign something to say that I accepted what he had left me.”

“A codicil”, I said. “That was good of him. He did exactly what I advised. We shall go to the reading of the will and you shall come with us, sir.”

֍

It was eight days later and there was rather a large crowd in a back room of the Market House. John and I had travelled down with Mr. Carter, who had spent most of the journey marvelling at our first-class compartment. Across from us were three of the brothers; the eldest Mr. Magnus and the two youngest Mr. Stephen and Mr. Timothy. Mr. Magnus was very clearly the only one who spent any time outside as he was bronzed and muscular while his brothers looked like two City businessmen on a day out, although they were I knew pleasant enough fellows. To our left sat the other brother Mr. Graham who was tall, spindly and decidedly unkempt, and next to him was his mother who was clearly the one who had eaten all the pies from the size of her. And to the right was the lawyer Mr. Green, a balding fellow in his fifties who was visibly very nervous.

He had every right to be, as I well knew.

“This is all rather irregular”, the lawyer began, “so I must ask you not to jump to any conclusions and wait for _all_ the facts before you say anything.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mrs. Letherbridge demanded. “Do I not get my money?”

Built like a roundhouse, conniving _and_ unpleasant, I thought. The full house.

“The late Mr. William Letherbridge added a codicil to his will in the days before he died”, the lawyer said. “He was very thorough about it; three of the top doctors in the city of London attended and each declared him to be of sound mind, signing a declaration to that effect. I mention that fact because I feel that some of you may be just a little surprised at what he did.”

The atmosphere in the room had changed to one of barely suppressed tension. The five Letherbridges looked at each other uncertainly.

“On the surface the new will seemed much the same as the old one”, the lawyer went on. “Mr. Letherbridge acknowledged four sons....”

“Wait a minute”, Mr. Graham Letherbridge cut in. “What the hell do you mean, _four_ sons?”

“I must first explain the distribution of assets before I cover that”, the lawyer said. “The Pinehurst estate, Mr. William Letherbridge's house and lands therein, comprised approximately thirty-two per cent of the total estate's final value. That was left wholly to his eldest son Mr. Magnus Letherbridge....”

“What the hell?” Mrs. Letherbridge yelled.

She and her second son had both shot to their feet. Mr. Magnus looked more than a little surprised too, as he had every reason to be. The lawyer turned to him.

“Your father revoked his disinheritance of you as one of the changes that he made”, he said. “He had his reasons....”

“I for one cannot _wait_ to hear what they were!” Mrs. Letherbridge said hotly. “And we shall definitely be challenging this _outrageous_ piece of tomfoolery.”

“It is your choice as to how you spend your own money”, the lawyer said. “But you may care to know that upon advice your late husband also inserted what is called a 'challenge clause'. You are required to lodge a bond of five hundred pounds _prior_ to any challenge, and you lose that money if – when - you are unsuccessful.”

“I shall get way more than that from the estate!” she said scornfully.

“Which brings me to the next change”, the lawyer said smoothly. “Your late husband made a slight adjustment to the capital sum that he bequeathed to you, madam. It is now precisely one farthing.”

Mrs. Letherbridge opened and closed her mouth but no sound came out. Mr. Graham Letherbridge sniggered then moved swiftly away when she turned on him.

“So the rest us get what, Green?” he asked. “Twenty-odd per cent each?”

“Ah.”

I doubt that that word has ever been used to quite such deadly effect. Mr. Graham Letherbridge's eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean, 'ah'?”

“Any challenge by your mother would be certain to fail, as her late husband had acquired proof that you and she were attempting to destroy Mr. Magnus' farm.”

_”What!”_

The eldest son shot to his feet and stared angrily at his sibling who moved round to hide behind his mother, something which was quite easy. I would have hidden too, facing that look from the man-mountain.

“Your mother and brother purchased the neighbouring farm and used that in an attempt to ruin you”, the lawyer said. “Had it not been for the swift actions of Mr. Sherlock Holmes here they might well have succeeded.”

“But at least I get my share of the loot, right?” Mr. Graham Letherbridge asked.

“You do not”, the lawyer said firmly. “As well as revoking the disinheritance of his eldest son, Mr. William Letherbridge also disinherited his second son. You. You receive the same capital sum as your mother, one farthing. Your father wished to leave both of you absolutely nothing, but accepted legal advice that a nominal sum would make any challenge even less likely to succeed.”

Mr. Graham Letherbridge rose to his feet and glared angrily around at us all but words clearly failed him and he stormed from the room. Even better his ghastly mother wobbled off after him, presumably headed to the nearest food-stall. The three remaining brothers all breathed sighs of relief once they were gone, then smiled at each other.

“But wait a minute”, Mr. Magnus said, suddenly frowning. “You said at the start that it was all shared between _four_ sons. Father cannot have disinherited Graham.”

The lawyer looked decidedly awkward as did his two younger brothers, I came to their rescue.

“When I informed your father of what had happened”, I said, “I took the liberty of asking both Mr. Stephen and Mr. Timothy here for their urgent attendance. As both are possessed of wives about to either augment or initiate their lineages their father understood that they were somewhat preoccupied but they came at once. Naturally they too could have been in a position to challenge this will but, given the circumstances, they both very firmly decided not to.”

“You were as much a son to him as any of us”, Mr, Timothy told Mr. Carter. “And I am sorry that Father did it the way he did, but given his health we both see that there was no other way.”

He and his brother both looked at Mr. Carter who was clearly all at sea.

“I do not understand”, he said. 

“Your late master, at my suggestion, practised a slight deception on you”, I said gently. “When he said that you were signing for an inheritance, what you were actually signing was not a codicil. It was a certificate of _adoption.”_

Mr. Carter gasped.

“It was the best legal way, sir”, Mr. Green said, “otherwise your own inheritance might have been successfully challenged. You are the late Mr. Letherbridge's son and, may I say from what my late client told me of your care and tenderness towards him over recent years, you are far more deserving of that title than his own second son.”

“Quite right too”, Mr. Magnus said. “I am only sorry you could not bring me in on this whole thing but with Father the way he was I can see that speed was the main thing. Welcome to the family, Peter.”

֍


	3. Chapter 3

Once all the paperwork was sorted we all left the building, the younger Letherbridges to return to the Forest (primarily to ensure that their mother did not try to rifle the house before she left) and Mr. Magnus to his farm whither he was taking Mr. Carter who had never seen one before and would spend a week or two there before returning to London. That was also good in that it would give me time to secure a post for him in London if he wanted one.

We had only passed through the town of Alresford briefly during our first memorable visit here and as we had just missed one train to London we decided to explore it a little. It had been subject to a major fire during the early Georgian period which had led to the vast majority of the buildings being of the same epoch, giving the town a pleasant uniform look. 

John and I were in a bookshop when it happened. We were browsing at the back when a handsome young fellow of about fifteen years ago entered. I froze in horror.

It was John! Thirty years ago! It had to be....

I nudged my friend and he looked at me curiously before following my line of sight to the newcomer. And then he did the worst possible thing.

_”Ben?”_

The teenage boy looked up and a pair of familiar forest-green eyes stared at us both from across the books.

“I am sorry”, he said courteously. “Do I know you gentlemen?”

John had gone bright red. I rushed to his rescue.

“We visited this part of the world a little over ten years ago”, I said carefully. “It was concerning your grandfather's..... illness.”

I could see the boy putting two and two together. He was old enough to have been told about his murderous uncle and what had happened back then.

“You are the gentlemen who cleared my father?” he asked.

That was probably the politest way of putting it, I thought. The boy had a career path in the diplomatic service if he could come out with things like that.

“We are”, I said. “We are here on another investigation. I trust that your parents are well?”

He smiled. Again, just like John.

“They are both away visiting one of her relatives who they cannot stand!” he said. “I am left in charge of the house although of course I have Ken – the steward – to turn to if needed.”

“We are sorry to have missed them”, I said insincerely. “You were only four then and have certainly become a man since.”

He puffed himself up a little at that just like.... someone was looking suspiciously at me.

“Thank you for your efforts back then”, he said. “Perhaps one day you might come down when my parents are here?”

Perhaps Hell will freeze over, I thought as we exchanged pleasantries before parting.

֍

Because John was not the sort to ask, I suggested that we spend the evening after this encounter enjoying some manly embracing. He looked at me suspiciously but as I had correctly fathomed he was not up for sexy times after such an encounter. So we duly cu.... held each other in a manly manner.

I did not smirk _that_ much.

֍

_Postscriptum: Mr. Peter Carter took to farm life so much that his new big brother appointed him to run both Cheriton Field Farm and the adjoining Waller's Farm, which he did very successfully. Less successful were Mr. Graham Letherbridge and his mother who both ended up in gaol after they did indeed try to make off with everything that they could carry from the estate, only to be caught by the younger Letherbridges and the local constable. The boys – all four of them - very fairly agreed to pay them for a one-way passage to somewhere else in the world and I can only hope that it was somewhere far, far away._

֍


End file.
